


Safety

by dontyouwantit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAD Dom/Sub, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dom/sub, Don't do this ever, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, This is kind of horrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontyouwantit/pseuds/dontyouwantit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has taken up with John and Greg but memories of old lovers come between them</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is AU in that John never was a soldier, he's just a surgeon. He and Greg have been involved for some time before they became involved with Sherlock. Also, this has some seriously, seriously bad BDSM stuff. Like not just maybe too kinky for some folks, like dangerously not obeying groundrules and stuff. If this in any way makes you uncomfortable, please don't read it. 
> 
> Nothing here belongs to me and I lay no claim on it.

**CHAPTER ONE**

John could hear the shower running when he came home.  A quick glance around the flat and he noticed the windows were sparkling, the carpet felt vacuumed, and there was something pine-scented wafting from the toilet.  He smiled.  Sherlock could always send himself a little bit under when he cleaned.

He knew he could go in and surprise Sherlock in the shower, feel that pale skin all damp and soapy under his fingers, but he decided to wait.  He stowed his things and went into their room to check on everything they’d need for the scene they had planned on tonight.  When he was satisfied, and he heard the water switch off, he ducked into the living room and settled into his favourite chair.

Within moments he saw Sherlock appear around the corner.  The man took one look at John, smiled, and padded straight over.  He let his robe fall open and clambered up to straddle John’s lap.  John laid his hands on Sherlock’s cloth-covered hips and let the man kiss him.

It felt like heaven.  Subspace Sherlock was all gentle kisses and soft touches.  He touched his lips to John’s and stroked his tongue across in tiny kitten-licks.  The tips of his fingers danced across John’s chest, a delicate exploration.  John relaxed into every soft touch.  After the day he’d had, to be greeted like this when he came home was just what the Doctor ordered.

‘You’ve been a busy boy, my love,’ whispered John.

Sherlock smiled another small smile and nodded.

‘Cleaned the house for us, didn’t you?’

Sherlock nodded again but his eyes lost some of their glaze.  John knew this questioning was the best way to bring Sherlock back to him.

‘It’s lovely.  Did you have any other plans for tonight?’

‘I thought I might cook.’

‘Cook?’

‘Yes, then I thought I might be able to find two big, strong men to look after me.’

Suddenly Sherlock’s smile grew sly and John waited expectantly.

‘After I’ve fed you and Greg, of course.’

Sherlock grinned a little, waiting for John to laugh.  John tightened his grip on Sherlock’s hips and forced his mouth into a smile before leaning in to kiss Sherlock again.  If the kiss involved far more teeth than lips, neither man commented. 

When they pulled back, John had regained his composure somewhat and reached out to stroke the hair off Sherlock’s forehead.

‘Sherlock, you’re a bit warm.  Are you alright?’

‘I think I may be coming down with something.  Nothing too bad, of course, but I may not be of much use in the bedroom tonight.  I find I grow inordinately weak with any sort of exertion.’

John had stopped listening after the first sentence.  Over and over again in his head he could hear Sherlock’s cultured tones.

‘I think I may be coming down with something.’

‘I think I may be coming down with something.’

‘Coming down with something.’

‘I think I may.’

‘Down with something.’

‘I think I may be coming down with something.’

And then it wasn’t Sherlock at all but a much rougher voice muttering before turning away.  John pushed Sherlock off his lap.  The tall man fell gracelessly and stared up at John with wounded eyes. 

‘Corner.’

‘What?’

‘Shut up.  I said get in the corner.  You can stay there until Greg gets home.’

‘But-’

‘I thought you were better than this at following instructions Thom-Sherlock.’

‘John, I-’

‘Shut. Up. And get. In. The. Corner.’

With John towering over him, Sherlock made an executive decision to obey.  He crawled into his punishment corner and settled on his knees the way John and Greg had taught him all those months before.  John leant over him and pushed a gag into his mouth before buckling it around his head.  He locked the cuffs around his wrists, arms behind his back. When John pulled Sherlock’s robe off so it bunch around his forearms and walked away, Sherlock froze, but he breathed out in relief when John returned and pressed the set of spare keys into his hand as an alternate safe-word.

 

As he knelt, Sherlock went through every physical sensation he was experiencing. He catalogued his twinging shoulders, his sore knees, his cold feet, everything he could feel.  When his thoughts were neatly ordered, he deleted the lot of them and then, with his mind blissfully empty, he sank into his punishment.  He drifted off into a hazy place where he could visualise all the ways he could make it up to John for…whatever it was he’d done.

He shook off the lingering confusion and lost himself.

 

It felt like hours had passed.  He could no longer ignore his protesting muscles and was forced to return to the real world where it was just all too much.  His body and neck felt too hot but his hands and feet were freezing.  He’d lost track of John an age ago and didn’t even know if the man was still in the flat.  There was an itch on his back that was biting into his skin.  Eventually, with tears creeping onto his lashes, Sherlock closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and dropped the keys.

It was the first time he’d ever had to safe-word with John and Greg.

 

When Greg got home, Sherlock was shaking.  He’d fallen forward so his forehead was pressed into the wall.  John was sitting on the couch, trying to read.

‘What’s going on, John?’

‘I.  Fuck, Greg. I’ve, shit, I’ve done something bad.’

Greg frowned.

‘What, love?  Why is Sherlock in the corner?  Is he okay?’

‘He-oh shit, I can’t.’

Greg laid a hand on John’s arm but was already walking over to Sherlock’s kneeling form.  He peered over his shoulder and was shocked to see his face a mess of tears and snot.  Sherlock never cried from corner time.  Greg frowned back at John.

‘How long has he been like this?’

‘An hour?  Three?  Fuck, Greg, I don’t know.  I put him there and I probably shouldn’t have and I was waiting for you to get home, but then he started shaking and I could, fuck, I could hear him crying.  You know he never cries.  But he didn’t safe-word, I didn’t…I didn’t know what to do.’

Greg sighed and nodded at John.  He knew Sherlock was a difficult bastard and John had trouble sometimes.  He slid one palm down Sherlock’s arms, under the robe, to unlock the cuffs.  He froze when his searching fingers were met with Sherlock’s empty palms.  Eyes wide, he turned back to face John.

‘Where are the keys?’

‘In his hand.’

‘Guess again.’

John started to look frantic.

‘No, they are.  I put them there.’

‘Have you left the room?’

‘Of course not.’

Greg turned back and unlocked the cuffs, massaging Sherlock’s shoulders as he repositioned his arms.  As the robe moved, all three men heard the jangle of the keys sliding off and onto the floor.  Greg heard John gasp but ignored him in favour of unbuckling Sherlock’s gag and massaging his jaw.  He pulled a tissue from his pocket and carefully cleaned the man’s face before lifting him slowly to his feet.  Sherlock wavered a little and Greg welcomed him into his arms, supporting the lithe frame.  When he was steadier, Greg kissed his cheekbones and sent him into the bathroom to use the loo and wash his face.

When Sherlock was safely out of earshot, Greg rounded on John.

‘What the fuck happened here?’

‘Greg, I-’

‘Did you forget the sort of scene we had planned tonight?  Did you just not recall what we’d decided Sherlock needed?’

‘I just-’

‘Fuck, John, you know what we’d planned.  He needed nurture, sweetness.’

‘I didn’t-’

‘How long do you think you managed to leave him there after he’d safe-worded out?’

John sucked in a harsh breath and squeezed his eyes closed.

‘I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry, Greg.’

Greg huffed and pulled John roughly into his arms.

‘Of course you are, you dozy bastard, but we’re going to have a long talk tonight, you and I.’

John nodded as they pulled back and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  They turned when the door opened and we startled to see Sherlock fully dressed.

‘I’m going for a walk.’

‘Sherlock-’

‘I believe the scene is over? Greg?’

‘Well, yes but-’

‘I will return later.  Don’t wait up.’

And with that, Sherlock darted between the two men and out the door.  Greg frowned and John crumpled.

‘Hey, don’t cry.  We can sort this out, but we need to find Sherlock right now.  He’s going to drop horribly after that.’

John flinched at the reminder before following Greg out of the flat. 

They agreed to split up.  Greg went to scour all of Sherlock’s favourite bars and clubs while John checked out the nooks and crannies he liked to hide in.  As luck would have it, John found Sherlock.  The man was curled up in a corner under a bridge.  He’d buried his head in his hands and his shoulders were shaking.  John slunk deeper into the shadows and called Greg.

He stayed to watch when Greg arrived.  He watched Greg walk up to Sherlock, touch his shoulder.  He saw how Greg pulled Sherlock onto his feet and into his arms.  He stared at the way Greg leaned up to smooth down Sherlock’s curls while his other arm was securely around his waist.  As John watched, Sherlock grew calmer, more collected.  Greg eventually pulled back to kiss him, slowly, soothingly.  When they parted, Greg led Sherlock back to the road where they hailed a taxi back to Baker Street.  John went to the pub.

 

By the time he got home, Greg had put Sherlock to bed.  He stumbled in only to be confronted with the older man’s scowl.

‘Where have you been?’

John looked around and shrugged.

‘You’re drunk aren’t you.’

‘Jusht a li’l, I promish.’

Greg sighed in disgust before standing up from the sofa. 

‘Sleep down here tonight.’

That sobered John up more than a pot of coffee and a cold shower.  His head snapped up to stare imploringly at Greg.

‘You think I want you near him in that state?  Use the spare bathroom to shower and sleep down here.  If your hangover isn’t too terrible we can have that long talk in the morning.’

‘Greg-’

‘Sleep down here, John.’

John nodded slowly before shuffling over to collapse onto the couch.  He was practically asleep as soon as his eyes closed but he felt Greg tuck a blanket around him and kiss his temple.

 

His hangover was too terrible in the morning.  John felt horrible, worse than he ever had before, and that was including the time spent in the war.  When he managed to shuffle into the kitchen, it took him a moment to realise he’d interrupted Greg and Sherlock chatting over their breakfast.  He froze for a moment, still mulling over how horrible and terrible he felt, but the way Sherlock tensed when John stepped forward made everything a thousand times worse. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he could see Greg shaking his head.  Snapping his teeth shut, John stumbled back out of the room without a word.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

He stayed in the spare room until Greg came to see him. 

‘Sherlock’s gone to the lab.’

John stared out the window.

‘John, Sherlock’s gone to the lab. We’re going to talk.’

‘He hates me, doesn’t he.’

Greg sighed and settled himself on the bed next to John.

‘He doesn’t, but he doesn’t know what’s happened or rather, he doesn’t understand _why_ it happened.  Doesn’t have all the data, you know.’

‘What do I do?’

‘You have to let him figure it all out, give him all the variables and let him draw the conclusions, so to speak.’

‘But you saw what happened in the kitchen, Greg-’

‘The last time he saw you, you were furious and unable to be reasoned with.  He needs to remember that you’re not always like that.’

John sighed.

‘For one thing, stop hiding away.  It makes him think you’re still punishing him.’

‘How?’

‘Come one, John, Sherlock’s like a cat.  If his people aren’t at his disposal for him to rub up against, they must be cross.  Let him reacclimatise to you.’

After a long pause John nodded. Greg smiled and pulled the other man back against his chest, lying them both down.

‘We can all get through this, you’ll see.’

 

John was sitting in his favourite chair when Sherlock got home.  He froze when he heard the key, but tried to focus back on the newspaper in his hands while giving off soothing and non-threatening vibes.  Sherlock looked at him for a moment before walking past to find Greg.

John let out the breath he’d sucked in and tried to stop his hands from shaking.

 

When Greg came in that evening, with two dinner trays, John happily took one and moved over to make space for Greg on the couch.  A few minutes later, Sherlock came in.  John started and dropped his fork when Sherlock glide past him.  He swore and bent to pick it up, cringing when he saw Sherlock flinch at his harsh tone.  Sherlock walked to around to curl up on the sofa on the other side of Greg, happily pinching bits of the other man’s dinner

Halfway through the talk show that was playing, John leaned forward to put his empty tray on the coffee table.  He glanced over as he did and saw Sherlock watching him.  He smiled a little and looked away, although he could feel Sherlock’s eyes on him until the television was turned off.

John still slept in the other room.

 

For the next few days, things went along like that.  John would try to present as unthreateningly as possible to Sherlock, Sherlock would observe and Greg would try to facilitate and mediate.  It was a full week after the incident the first time Sherlock spoke to John.  They were eating once more in front of the telly and John could hear quiet bickering from the two men next to him.  When it changed into intense whispering he glanced over to see Sherlock pout and look up.

‘Greg’s eaten all his carrot.’

John stumbled over his words for a moment before Greg nudged him.

‘I still have some left, you can have it if you like.’

‘Yes.’

John scraped the vegetables onto Greg’s plate and watched Sherlock pick them up, eating them one by one.

‘That wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ Greg whispered.

Sherlock pouted again but shook his head in agreement.

John smiled down at his chicken.

 

On the Friday of the next week, John came home early from the surgery. It was Greg’s day off and Sherlock wasn’t working on a case.  Usually, when their schedules lined up like this, they would spend the day together.  Sometimes they went out and did normal, date-type things and sometimes they’d stay in and not leave their bed.  John wasn’t sure what to expect this time but he didn’t want to miss any chance at further reconciliation by being at work.  The best case scenario, what he was hoping for was for the three of them to go out for dinner.  They could go somewhere safe and familiar for Sherlock and maybe he would talk to John, let him apologise and maybe explain. 

 

The house seemed empty when John walked in.  His stomach grew cold when he pictured Greg and Sherlock leaving without him, having a date night without him.  John knew he probably deserved it, he knew he was in no position to push or ask for anything, but he didn’t want it to have happened.  Unfortunately, what he found in the bedroom was almost worse.

Greg and Sherlock were lying in the bed.  Both men were naked and Sherlock had a blindfold on.  Greg lay on his back with Sherlock sprawled across his stomach and they were kissing, long and slow.  Sherlock’s hands were next to Greg’s head, curled into loose fists.  Greg had his palms on Sherlock’s shoulders and, as John watched, one hand slid down to rub over Sherlock’s arse.  It stroked firmly, almost kneading the flesh, before creeping around and nosing between Sherlock’s thighs, almost scraping his testicles. 

John didn’t know how long he stood watching.  Eventually Greg’s eyes opened and he caught sight of him hovering in the doorway.  He didn’t jump or freeze or do anything that might alert Sherlock to John’s presence.  He let Sherlock’s mouth slide off his and latch onto his neck.  John smiled at the picture and instinctively reached out so accustomed to being able to touch.  It was here that Greg flinched.  Luckily it coincided with a nip from Sherlock, so the man just laved with his tongue in apology.  John, however, received the message loud and clear and withdrew his hand.

‘Sorry,’ mouthed Greg. ‘Not yet.’

John swallowed hard and nodded.  He took himself out of the room and out of the house.  By the time he returned, it was the usual hour he would get home from work.  He was nervous opening the door, but Greg and Sherlock were both fully clothed.  In fact, they were both dressed rather…nice.  John felt his insides twist, he wasn’t sure he could take them going on date night without him after what he’d just seen though he knew he would have to.

‘There you are, John,’ said Greg. ‘I wondered when you’d be back.’

‘This is the usual time he returns every day, Gregory.  It’s hardly comment-worthy.’

‘Are you two off somewhere nice then?’ asked John.

The other two simply stared at him.

‘John, it’s date night,’ said Greg.

‘We had the day off and now we take a meal.  This is the usual sequence of events.  Although you usually make an effort to be home early on such occasions.’

‘Yes,’ mused John. ‘Yes, I suppose I do.  I’ll just dash up and change then, shall I?’

They nodded so John dropped his bag and coat and hurried up the stairs, irrationally afraid that if he took too long they’d leave without him.  He was back downstairs in record time.

‘All set?’ asked Greg.

John nodded and the trio made their way into town.

 

They found their favourite restaurant and secured a table a little way away from the rest of the customers.  After they made their orders, Greg ducked off to the bathroom.  For a long moment Sherlock and John sat in silence.

‘I miss you,’ John blurted out.

Sherlock’s head snapped over to stare at him.

‘I can’t ever undo what I did to you, and I am so, so sorry for it, but I miss you so much, Sherlock.’

‘I…I still don’t understand why you did what you did.’

‘There’s no excuse for it but I can try to explain it?’

Sherlock nodded jerkily, but at that moment Greg walked over.

‘Are we really going to have this conversation here?’

‘Yes,’ said Sherlock.

Greg sighed and sat down. ‘Alright then.’

John took a deep breath and began talking.

‘Years ago, before we met you, Greg and I were involved with someone else.  His name was Thomas and he was beautiful.  Unfortunately, he was also a lying, cheating, manipulative bastard.’

‘You know the dynamics John and I enjoy in our relationship,’ cut in Greg. ‘Thomas was our sub.’

‘He was brilliant at it, too,’ continued John. ‘Which is less of a surprise when we found out he was practicing with at least four other doms.’

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose and John paused as the waiter brought their food. 

‘He was unfaithful?’ asked Sherlock.

‘From the very first date,’ said Greg.

‘And when he started living with us, he would use the same phrase each time he’d leave for his other doms.  He’d always cook or clean or make us something and then he’d always say _I think I may be coming down with something_.  Exactly those words, every time.’

‘John picked it up before I did,’ said Greg. ‘He confronted Thomas and he just laughed.  We only saw him once after that.  He was at a club being tied up by a beautiful domme.’

‘She was talented, that one,’ agreed John. 

‘The joke I made, about finding other men,’ said Sherlock. ‘That didn’t help?’

‘None of this is your fault at all, Sherlock,’ said John.  ‘Nothing you did was wrong.’

‘It was an…unfortunate combination of events,’ agreed Greg.

‘An anniversary?  Of your meeting or…of the final confrontation.  He was already on your mind and I just exasperated the issue.’

John nodded grimly.

‘And please, Sherlock, you know I would never have ignored your safe word, I didn’t-’

‘I know.’

‘You do?’

Sherlock caught John’s gaze, staring right into his eyes.

‘John, if I thought for a second that you had deliberately ignored my safe word you would have never seen me again.’

John closed his eyes and let a long breath out through his nose.

‘I just find it a little difficult to be comfortable with putting myself in such a situation with you again.’

‘That’s okay.’

‘Is it?’

John could hear the tremor in Sherlock’s voice and he thought of how scared the man had been the first few times they had been together.  On instinct, he reached out and brushed Sherlock’s hand with his.  It was the first contact they’d had in over two weeks and Sherlock seemed starved for it, grasping John’s hand in both of his.  John gripped back, just as tight.

‘I promise you, Sherlock, it’s okay.  There’s no rush.  You can take as long as you need, but I hope that someday you’ll sub for me again, when you’re comfortable.’


End file.
